On June 19th, 2012, 10 days after checking into the hospital, I woke early after a long night of contractions, interruptions from the nurses and treatments to stop my labor. I was in pain. My doctor came in to do his routine morning check and I welcomed him, eagerly anticipating some kind of answers. I’m still not really sure what I wanted him to say, but whatever it was – he didn’t say it. “Well, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing” he responded casually as he patted me and turned to go. I knew he couldn’t give me answers because there were no definitive questions even, but it was still hard to see him come and go with no new news.

Soon after, around 8am when the nurse came in for her morning rounds, I told her that I was having contraction pains. She checked the computer to see what the contraction monitor was picking up, but didn’t see much action going on. This made me feel like maybe my pains weren’t really contractions.

As soon as she left my room, the husband came over and sat with me, letting me squeeze his hand through the pain and trying to soothe me. I recalled something I had heard once about submitting to the pain, and so I tried to embrace it. Feeling the wave come over me…slowly tightening over my midsection. Within minutes I was hurting badly enough that he insisted I call the nurse back in. After trying to convey to her again that I was really hurting pretty badly, she said she was going to call the doctor and see what he wanted her to do. Around 9:30 am, after what felt like hours but was really only minutes, she came back saying that he wanted to have my cervix checked to see if I had progressed at all. I vividly remember looking her in the eye and telling her that I thought I might die if she checked my cervix. I was already in so much pain I honestly couldn’t imagine adding another check. But there was no option. She brought in another nurse and after checking me she declared that my cervix was basically gone and all she could feel was the baby. I started to freak out..I think it was just the overwhelming emotion of thinking our babies were about to be here, the fear of whether they would be okay or not. It was just so much, and it felt strangely unexpected. Fortunately…and unfortunately the nurse quickly explained that she wanted to have someone check me again to make sure…so in came nurse #2 who the husband and I often refer to as Cookie but whose real name was actually Pepper. Pepper didn’t hold anything back, and the pain was almost unbearable. But she also came up with a much different result…I was still only dilated to a 5 and hadn’t actually changed much since 10 days before.

But after delivering this new piece of information to my doctor, he announced that he wanted to schedule a c-section for 11 a.m. After much agonizing over the last couple of months, I had finally accepted that despite my desire for a natural birth, a c-section was most likely in my future. Both of my babies were breech and with the new factor of being premature, a natural delivery just wasn’t in the cards if I wanted my babies to be safe and healthy.

Upon the nurses leaving the room to go get the anesthesiologist to give me an epidural, the husband and I were alone. And full of both joy and fear. He rushed to the head of my bed, grabbed my hand and with tears in our eyes he began to pray. I don’t even remember exactly what he said, but I know our hearts were both asking God for protection and safety for our babies.

He prayed for maybe a minute or two, and the moment he said amen, I felt something burst and water gushed all over me. Shocked, I looked at my husband and exclaimed “my water just broke!” In a panic, he raced out of the room into the hall, shouting “my wife’s water just broke!”

I’ve honestly never seen nurses move so fast. Suddenly everyone was in overdrive. The nurse wanted to check me one more time to make sure my water really did break…which at the time seemed completely silly. What else might it have been?? Of course it was my water! As several others rushed in around me and began unhooking my monitors and cords, I shouted random orders at the husband. “Get the paper for the footprints!” “Don’t forget the camera!” “Make sure the battery is charged!” He was completely freaked out. And suddenly time froze. And I said to him “honey, I need you to be sane right now.” And he was. He was so good.

After confirming that my water did indeed break (shocker!) they began wheeling me out the door and down the hall. Around a corner, through another door and into the operating room. I was alone now. They had to get me prepped before Jon could come in. I was still in so much pain, and when they asked me to roll over onto my side and curl into a ball so they could stick the needle in my back, I truly didn’t know if I could do it. With lots of help from the nurses, the anesthesiologist began poking around in my back asking me where I was feeling pain from the needle. On the left side. On the right. In the middle. What did this guy want to hear?? I wondered. Finally it was in, and I began to go numb. Jon was at my side now. Dr. K came in. I felt tugging in my stomach. Jon and I squeezed each other’s hands.

Crying. The absolute most unreal moment of my life. My baby boy’s first cries. I could only catch a glimpse of him, craning my neck to the side as they took him past me to the incubator. And then another cry. A different cry. My baby girl. Both of them born in the same minute. 10:06 a.m. My heart exploded with joy.

My babies were crying, and I’d never felt so much all consuming happiness. Through the blur of my tears and swollen eyes I strained to see them. I ached to touch them. They were only feet away from me, but I couldn’t get to them. I was seeing them and feeling them through Jon’s eyes and hands. I was on my back, still being stiched up, and their incubators were behind me. I twisted my neck as much as I could, desperate for a glimpse of them, as I tried to breathe. And then suddenly, there was Linc. Wrapped in a blue striped blanket, Jon held him close to my face, and I touched him. I felt his face with my fingertips, and I tried to hug him to me as close as I could. He was finally here, and he was safe.

And then sweet Viv. She was lowered down to me in the same way, and I traced her tiny face with my eyes and hands, trying to memorize her delicate features before she was taken away to the NICU.

Lincoln was absolutely perfect. Vivian was beyond extravagant. If he seemed small, then she seemed microscopic. But they were both crying and pink and so beautiful and healthy. The most surreal moments of my life were when I laid my eyes on them. And then they were gone.

It was ten minutes from the time my water broke to the moment they were born. And then within another half hour I was back in my bedrest room. Quite literally alone. I felt my belly to see if they were really gone. Everything had happened so fast. Finally my mom came in, and then the lactation consultant. Something about how to pump was said, and as I tried to take in those details all I could think about was getting to my babies. While the doctor said I could see them in a few hours if I felt up to it, I died a little at the thought of waiting that long. Thank goodness for kind nurses, who offered to wheel my hospital bed through the NICU so that I could see them before I was taken to my new room.

While every detail of their birth is etched into my mind, the first moments I spent with them in the NICU are kind of fuzzy. I remember reaching through the porthole to feel their tiny bodies and let their fingers wrap tightly around my mine. And I remember the weight of my baby girl’s perfect little body as she was laid in my arms. Her fuzzy hair against my lips as I kissed her sweet head.

touching Linc

holding Vivian for the 1st time

Back in my room the hours seemed endless as we waited for the numbness to subside from my body. Again my doctor said if I felt up to it I could be wheeled down to see them, and I honestly thought he was crazy. Literally nothing could have kept me from being with them the first moment possible. Nothing.

And so began life with our miracle babies, Linc and Viv. I’ve never felt so thankful and blessed. They are tough little babies, and though our journey through the NICU was the hardest 17 days of my entire life, they were so strong and inspired me so much.

Not too long ago, sometime before the chaos of the holidays set in, I packed the twins up one day and headed east. My grandpa and grandma live just far enough away that we don’t get to see them as much as we’d like, but not too far for a day trip visit. To some it may sound silly, but before I got pregnant one of the things I was extremely excited about at the thought of having a baby was giving my grandpa and grandma their first great-grandchild. And the day we told them there was a baby on the way was up there on my list of best moments.

So not only did I want to take the twins for a fun visit, I had something else in mind as well. To me, my grandpa has been known for many things. Among them are working on planes at Tinker Air Force Base for most of his life, loving snickers bars, being able to fix any problem on a car, and making the best peanut brittle you’ve ever tasted.

As far back as I can remember, every year as the weather starts to turn cold and festive decorations begin to appear, everyone who knows my grandpa begins to anticipate the day they’ll receive their package of peanut brittle. And believe me, it’s not just any peanut brittle. It’s a recipe that was passed down from my great-grandma Loise. Super thick, light, and fluffy – it really is in a league of its own. But it’s not just the taste that makes it so special. With my grandma overseeing and hopping in to help when needed, my grandpa spends hours in the kitchen watching the sweet, peanutty mixture begin to brown, dumping in the special ingredient, and then “stirring the fire out of it” before dumping it onto a baking sheet. He makes nearly 20 batches a season, with each batch taking about 45 minutes…it truly is a work of love.

While the peanut brittle tradition is something I’ll always think of when I think of my grandpa George, I had never actually seen him make it. This year when the time drew near I realized what an injustice it is that I’ve never had the chance to see how it’s done. Helping him was every bit as interesting and fun as I knew it would be; seeing him work and having him teach me each step of the process was far better than just reading it on the recipe card.

While I told my grandpa he should hide away his recipe so that no one can ever make peanut brittle just like his, he insists that the recipe should be shared with anyone who wants it. But I have a hunch that it’s not just about following the recipe, rather it’s about the perfect peanuts, the special pot that he uses, the certain way he stirs it and how he knows just the perfect moment to take it off the fire before it burns.

Our visit was a highlight of the holiday season for me, and as the twins get older I can’t wait to take them out to help their great-grandpa. And it’s always a bonus to get cuddled by great-grandma in between batches.

Peanut Brittle

1 cup sugar

1 cup white karo syrup

1/2 cup water

2 cups raw peanuts

1 stick margarine

1 heaping teaspoon baking soda

Boil together sugar, karo syrup and water. Stir constantly until it spins a thread (about 12-15 minutes) (see spoon photo above). Be sure it spins a good thread. Add 2 cups raw peanuts and 1 cube margarine. Continue to cook and sitr until it turns the color of peanut brittle and peanuts begin to pop (about 10-15 minutes). Add one heaping teaspoon baking soda and stir rapidly. Let it foam up, then pour into a greased 9X15 inch pan while it is still foaming. Don’t press it down. Just let it roll into the pan and settle on its own.

Christmas has been more fun this year than it has in a long time. It has gone by way way too fast…but there were so many times where I stopped and tried to seal the moment in my mind forever because it was so special and sweet. Having Viv and Linc in our lives has made everything just a touch sweeter, but when I held each of them in my arms on Christmas morning….seeing them look at gifts, lights, glittery decorations with wide eyes…it was just the best. More than anything I used the day of our Savior’s birth to focus on everything we have to be thankful for – Jesus himself, and our sweet precious babies he has given us.

It’s crazy how Christmas is no longer just Christmas Eve and Christmas morning – we’ve had Christmas in Duncan, Christmas in south Texas, and this week we’ll have Christmas in Harrah. I have to admit, despite how worn out I am from traveling and whatnot, I’m pretty stoked that we get to draw it all out for so long.

Linc and Viv experienced their first flight on Sunday as we headed down for Christmas with Jon’s extended family in south Texas, and they did so great. I think the pressure during landing bothered Linc a little bit, and I ended up having to feed him right as we landed, but otherwise everything went perfectly. After being picked up at the airport, we went straight to Grandma McCoy’s house. Jon’s aunts, uncles and cousins were there, all waiting on pins and needles to meet our sweet babies. My heart soared seeing them surrounded by so much love.

We stayed with Jon’s Grammy and Aunt Karen that night, and the babies slept like angels. In the morning the babies opened gifts from Grammy, Aunt Karen, and Jon’s Aunt Bev. Lincoln just kind of sat back and took everything in, while Vivi really got after the gifts. She loved tearing the paper, and then attacking the gift and trying to eat it. It was precious how excited she was!

The rest of the day brought with it warm, humid weather, and a trip back over to Grandma McCoy’s for more time hanging out. I worked really hard to keep the babies on their normal routine as much as possible, and it really paid off. They napped fairly well, and therefore were happy babies when they were awake! Later Christmas Eve night, the adults did our gift exchange and had the traditional Christmas Eve seafood dinner. And as usual we ended the night with games around the table – a favorite McCoy family tradition.

Christmas morning, we felt so much joy hearing our babies start “talking” in their bed and getting to pull them over into our bed and cuddle for a little while. By far our favorite part of the day these days. After feeding them and getting everybody ready we headed over to Jon’s Aunt Brenda and Uncle Ronny’s. The McCoy family traditionally gathers there on Christmas morning to start the day off with hugs, lots of hanging out and pancakes. The family has grown to be rather large over the years, and there is an element of comfort that comes with the chaos of Christmas morning. After pancakes (which the twins slept through), everybody piled into the living room to open gifts. This time Linc gave Viv a run for her money and did a little paper ripping of his own:)

We spent the rest of the day just hanging out – passing the babies around, eating tons of food and even taking a little nap in the afternoon. What a great first Christmas for the Lincoln and Vivian. They won’t remember it, but they’ll be able to see in the pictures and videos how much love they were surrounded by.

Thanksgiving had a double special meaning for us this year as it was the 1 year anniversary of the week we found out we were having a baby! That’s right a baby. We didn’t see our elusive little baby b on the first ultrasound. On the night before Thanksgiving we announced to my mom that we were pregnant and the next day we told the rest of my family by giving my grandparent’s a new Christmas ornament.

Later that week we shared the news with Jon’s side of the family. A perfect weekend for sure.

And 2 weeks later we discovered tiny baby #2.

This was our year to go to my family’s Thanksgiving celebration, so on Wednesday night we packed up the car and headed to my mom’s. This wasn’t technically the twin’s first time to go to Grandma’s house, but it was the first time that they stayed for very long. Bright and early Thursday morning we were up cooking, loving on the babies and getting everything ready to go over to my grandparent’s house.

For as far back as I can remember, we’ve gone to my grandpa and grandma’s for Thanksgiving Day. While the food is amazing, it’s really not about the food (well, okay, it’s a little about the food). I’m just so thankful that I still get to go to my Grandparent’s house every year. Just being in their home is so special to me. I was smitten at getting to take the twin’s this year, and I hope we’ll go for many years to come.

Later in the week we stopped by my Aunt Terri’s to see my dad and his family. We don’t see them very often, so it was great to introduce the twins to everyone and of course great to see my dad. So much to be thankful for.

I’ve felt such a need all day long to sit down and write…and now that the twins are napping and I finally have the computer in front of me I feel a bit paralyzed. My instinct is to vent about all the feelings I’ve been having since Friday afternoon – fear, pain, disbelief, thankfulness – but the core of all those feelings is the concern I feel for the victims and families of the victims of the Connecticut shooting so it feels a little bit selfish to complain.

Just like every other morning, I sat on our bed with the twins this morning…but this time I just held them and wept. I cannot fathom what those families are experiencing. The thought of anything ever happening to Linc and Viv is more than I can bear, and I cannot understand how those moms and dads, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters are continuing on with life. I once heard someone say that when something like this happens, you don’t heal from the pain, you just learn to live with it. And I know that when faced with something like this, you must just do that. But my heart just hurts so badly for them.

This past weekend we had our first Christmas celebration with the McCoy side of our family, and amidst all the excitement my mind kept drifting, and I felt so numb. Since Friday I find myself feeling like life shouldn’t move on, but at the same time I know it’s not right or possible to dwell on the tragedy forever. I just don’t really know how to deal with this other than to just pray. Pray that God will continue to make his presence known as a comfort and a source of peace to the victims, the families, the children who survived. And that God will make his presence known as our country moves forward and changes are made to help protect our people, especially our children, better.

Aside from living a life of prayer, I also hope we can all take this as a reminder to love each other better and to focus on what really matters. We get so wrapped up in our own selfish desires and the things of this world, and we forget that one of the most important things in life is loving each other and looking out for one another. I hope I can begin to do that better. To go out of my way whenever possible to make someone’s day easier if even just for a moment. We really have to watch out for each other, even when it’s not easy.